A Necessary Sin: The Sin Trilogy: Book I

I get to my flat and gloat when I see a black Mercedes parked on the street. I’ve memorized his plates so I confirm it’s Sinclair but I don’t allow myself to appear as though I’ve noticed. I go about my business as I would if the car weren’t parked there.

Once inside, I peek through the curtains down at the street. Why didn’t he get out when I walked by? Did he not see me?

“Aye, that’s my car.”

Shit. He’s already inside.

“Shit!” I spin around and appear startled because that’s what normal people do when they find an uninvited guest in their home. “You scared the hell out of me.” I place my hand to my chest. “What are you doing in here?”

“You didn’t ask me in after I drove you home so I thought I’d extend an invitation to myself tonight.”

He wants to have me believe he can get to me any time he likes, with or without my permission. It’s a scare tactic and I have to make him believe he’s succeeded. “You can’t come into my house like this. What if I had a gun and shot you … or something?”

“I can leave if you like, since I certainly don’t want to be shot … or something.” He’s laughing at me.

I need him to stay. Spending time together is the only way we’ll connect. “You can stay if you agree to not give me another fright.”

“I make no promises.” His voice is husky. I think he means to make me uneasy. He’s succeeding.

“I’m going to have a drink.” I go to the cabinet I’ve stocked with liquor, including his favorite—Johnnie Walker. “Would you care for one?”

“Sure. I’ll take something dark and neat. Pour it tall. It’s been a dreadful day.”

I hand him his drink and sit on the opposite end of the sofa. “Want to tell me about it?”

“It’s a case I’m working so I can’t discuss it.”

“Client confidentiality?”

“Something like that.”

He takes a long drink, like it’s water. “Mmm … that’s good stuff.”

“Nothing beats JW.”

He places his drink on the end table and twists slightly to face me. “How was day two on the new job? I trust you didn’t break anyone’s nose today?”

I damn sure wanted to. “No, but I’m thinking of breaking a few grabby hands.”

“That isn’t wise, Bleu.”

“Then what am I supposed to do? Let those men put their hands up my skirt? That’s what some of them do. And they act like they have the right and I’m supposed to allow it.”

“It’s what they’re used to doing because the other lasses let them.” He’s laughing at me again and it pisses me off. It’s not okay for any woman to have to put up with that on the job.

“I’m not like the other girls. I don’t allow random men to put their hands on me. I would’ve told Leith that had I known it was going to be an issue.” I put my hand to my forehead, as though stressed. “I really need the money from that job but not at the expense of degrading myself.”

He takes another gulp of whisky. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow. It’ll be made clear that they aren’t to touch you again.”

That’s unexpected. “I don’t want to put you in a predicament.”

“You’re not. No more worrying. They’ll only bother you for another drink from now on.”

“Thank you.” He turns up the last of his whisky and I’ve only taken a few sips of mine. We need more time together.

I get up to collect his glass. “You need a refill.”

“No, thank you. I must be going. I have court early in the morning.”

I walk him to the door the way any good hostess would. “Will I see you tomorrow?” I smile sheepishly, flirtatious, just the way I intend. He needs to see a side of me other than the tough girl who can throw a punch.

“Maybe.” If you’re lucky. Those are the words I imagine when I see the grin that spreads across his face.

I stand in the doorway and watch him go to his car. “Good luck on your case,” I call out.

He gives me a smile and a nod. And then he’s gone.

The first thing I do once I’m alone is study my flat. I’m certain he scoured the place while he was here but for some reason, I want confirmation. I need it.

It only takes a couple minutes for me to notice the only deviation. A picture frame holding a photograph of me is missing from the bookcase. That’s not what I was expecting.

How peculiar. He doesn’t need that photograph to run a facial recognition analysis. Any of his grunts could’ve taken my picture if he’d ordered them to. The FBI consistently wipes any trace of the true Bleu MacAllister from the Web so the only one he’ll find is the identity Harry and I created.

Nothing else is out of place, although he snooped through my things. That’s fine—I was prepared for such. All the appropriate measures have been set into motion. There isn’t a single thing out of place in this carefully orchestrated life I’m living, so I’m certain Sinclair and I will be removing any trust issues between us sooner rather than later.